Mrs. Dain. You herd with the wits, you are obscenity all over.
Mrs. Squeam. And I would as soon look upon a picture of Adam and Eve, without fig-leaves, as any of you, if I could help it; therefore keep off, and do not make us sick.
Dor. What a devil are these?
Horn. Why, these are pretenders to honour, as critics to wit, only by censuring others; and as every raw, peevish, out-of-humoured, affected, dull, tea-drinking, arithmetical fop, sets up for a wit by railing at men of sense, so these for honour, by railing at the court, and ladies of as great honour as quality.
Sir Jasp. Come, Mr. Horner, I must desire you to go with these ladies to the play, sir.
Horn. I, sir?
Sir Jasp. Ay, ay, come, sir.
Horn. I must beg your pardon, sir, and theirs; I will not be seen in women's company in public again for the world.
Sir Jasp. Ha, ha, strange aversion!